


I'm Fine

by accordingtohelena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, and they all need a hug really, but its ok, i sure do love italics, im enjoying playing god, theyre all a bit sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtohelena/pseuds/accordingtohelena
Summary: Harry can't seem to find the end of the tunnel he's descended in to but theres a certain blond who thinks he has the answer. If given the chance he could bring light to the darkest time.





	1. End of the Beginning

1.

The trunk was sat in the doorway. I watched it from the sofa as though wary of attack. It had my whole life, in there one way or another. It was steeped in memories and emotions; good times, bad times, glory and despair. It had been my most prized possession for years. And now it was getting another outing.

I picked it up and hauled it to the front room of No. 12 Grimmauld Place. What little sunlight made it through was pale and watery, bathing everything in a dream like glow. The house had been my godfathers and now it was the ministry’s; stripped of anything remotely related to Voldemort and sterilised so it no longer held even the faintest trace Sirius. If it had ever felt like home, it certainly didn’t now.

A black car pulled up outside and a man ducked out of the front seat. White-blond hair and a grey hoodie tugged at something in my mind; it was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t until he pushed his mop of curls out of his eyes, sunglasses perched precariously on top, did it click. Draco fucking Malfoy. When I’d asked for assistance getting to school I thought they’d send Hagrid maybe, but no. A bloody car and Malfoy was what he got.

I turned and waited for the impatient knock at the door.

I didn’t think I was ready for this. It was all too soon. Too soon after Narcissa died; too soon after he left St. Mungo’s with a discharge slip and a stress ball clutched so hard it burst; _too soon_.

The doorbell rang.

I sat on the stairs and stared.

Memories of Narcissa’s long fair hair brushing my face as she whispered the promise of life; of Hermione and Ron kissing on the stair and the feeling that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t be happy for them. The overwhelming sense of numbness, nothing as he watched the Weasleys mourn.

The doorbell rang again and this time I answered it. I know he’ll look at me with the usual mixture of disdain and something like pity. I let down the chain and pull the door open.

He’s balanced on the front step, rocking on his heels as he watches the traffic go by. Curls tousled in the wind, he span round at the click of the door and stuck out a hand, which I took, obviously.

“Potter” he starts “you look…”

“awful I know.” I cut across him and made the observation myself. Sometimes it’s better to drag yourself before others can do it for you.

“Not what I was going to say, actually” he smirks at me and the old flicker of annoyance sparks in my chest.

“what was it then, smartass?” I challenge him, but all he can do is snicker.

“Just that you look tired but now you ask I’d say, exhausted and,” he took a breath, “look, can I come inside?”

I nod and lead him in past the trunk, and in to the front room.

“Tea?”

“Thanks”

I eek out making the tea for as long as I can. Picking mugs that aren’t dirty, pouring in milk. I can feel Draco getting impatient. Clearly there’s something he desperately needs to say but, gentleman he is, won’t, till I have the tea ready.

I carry the laden tray to the coffee table and find that Draco’s already made a space, piling the dusty magazines and doodles neatly in to stacks on the floor.

“Thanks.” I begin to pour.

“Let me finish what I was saying outside.” He puts a hand on my arm and it burns where he touches me. I can’t remember the last time someone touched me, not out of pity.

“…seriously Potter, when did you last shower?” he’s saying “You look like you’ve been washing with wet wipes since last May and honestly, when did you last sleep a full night? I can see your cheekbones where they used to be fleshed out, even during the last few years? Are you eating enough, you’re so thin, I’m worried… _and_ no one’s seen you in months… What?”

He stops abruptly as he notices me staring at him. Part of me wants to laugh and brush off his concern. Another part wants to ask where this new soft side came from and another side wants to tell him everything. All I can do is stare.

An unsure grin twitches his mouth to the side;

“what is it? Did I hit the nail?”

“on the head?” I whisper it out in to the stagnant air. “yes”

He looks at me and for a moment I think he’s going to leave. I think he’s going to leave, and I’ll be left to get myself to Hogwarts; left to find motivation.

Instead he hugs me. Draco Malfoy hugs me. Hard. Not a cursory sorry-for-that hug but a real I’m-here-for-you hug. And honestly? That was what I really needed. He pulls away and looks me in the eye.

“I’m sorry” he says, hands twisted together in a knot on his lap.

“no, I’m sorry” I whisper, my voice breaking, the tears finally roll over the edge and before I know it, I’ve buried my face in his chest, heaving great big sobs that show how I’ve been feeling. And Draco? He holds me and doesn’t let go.

                                                                        ----------------------------------------------------

“Why are you doing this for me?” I ask him quietly as I drink tea and he busies himself clearing the kitchen table and wiping away the dust from the mantlepiece.

“What do you mean?”

“You know”

Silence.

It’s clear he’s not willing to open up, so I leave him to himself as I mop my self-respect off the floor. He gives me the space to compose myself and I watch as he takes the overflowing rubbish bags out back, to the bins. He could’ve just vanished them? Just as he could’ve vanished the dust. _Scourgify_ , simple? It occurs to me that he hasn’t used magic since he got here. Maybe the ministry has his wand; they don’t quite trust him.

He leans crookedly in the doorway, head on the side and I don’t know how long he’s been there. He smiles at me and I don’t know how to feel.

“You ready?”

“No”

“Let’s go”

I follow him out the door and together we haul the trunk to the car. The hug, however spontaneous, was a definite reminder of change in the taller boy’s attitudes, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He nods, and makes his way round to the driver’s seat;

“I’d ask you to ride shotgun, but I don’t think I can handle that much,” He remarks with a sideways grin, a touch of his more familiar self.

I smile, and get in the back, thankful he hasn’t tried to force a friendship, where there would only be silence. It’s like I’ve tripped and fallen in to an alternate universe, where the most pure-blooded pureblood owns a muggle BMW and doesn’t use magic. Where he’s civil to half-bloods, like me, and I can’t understand why. But, then again, if you saw me, you wouldn’t understand why I’m not living the high life, riding on the wave of post-war delirium. You’d look at me and say, he should be glad! What’s he doing, wasting away his life, letting himself sink in to the depths of history like he’d _actually died_? What an idiot.

And I reckon you’d be right.


	2. Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't seem to find the end of the tunnel he's descended in to but theres a certain blond who thinks he has the answer. If given the chance he could bring light to the darkest time.

2.

I sit back in the squeaky leather of the car on our way to school. The tightening feeling in my chest gets heavier and heavier the closer we get. When I got the letter, inviting me back to finish my last year properly, I didn’t reply for weeks. The follow up letter from McGonagall was full of _‘you don’t have to’s_ and love. I hated it.

Draco twists round from the front seat. “you all right there, Potter?” he checks with a grin which I can’t bring myself to return. I cannot fathom why Draco is being so nice; I mean we’re enemies? Enemies don’t suddenly become friends. That’s not how it works.

He’s prattling on about some project or other. “…you’ll find that out when you get there!” He finishes brightly and flashes me an off-kilter smile over his shoulder.

“dra...uh…Malfoy?” I stutter, he doesn’t meet my eye in the mirror.

“hmm?” he feigns disinterest.

“why are you being so nice to me? Not that I don’t appreciate it, I just don’t feel I deserve it.”

“oh”

“I mean, I’m a crappy person” He stares at me like I’ve gone mad, but I’m right, I know. I don’t deserve the love of anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. I practically told them to _fuck off_ when they came around to help. I shut them out in the hope they’d forget about me and live their lives; the lives they’d always dreamed of, before Volde-bloody-mort got in the way and they spent last year camping.

“maybe I just want to be the nice one for once Potter” he spits it out like its difficult for him to say.

He turns back to the wheel until we get to the train station.

He hauls my trunk out of the back and offers me his hand again.

“Thanks”

“Don’t mention it” He turns on his heel and walks away and I follow, wheeling the trolley and feeling like a first year.

Oh. Oh shit. _Shit_.

The Weasleys are stood about 10 feet from me, bag and baggage gathered round them. I look round for Draco, but he’s gone, melted in to the crowd of people like a mirage. I pull my coat closer around me to hide the now oversized shirt and begin to make my way towards them. Over the heads of his siblings Ron spots me and begins to push his way through, dragging Hermione with him.

We meet in the middle and I’m enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from both sides. Its nice. I think. Suddenly it’s not so nice and I feel myself trying to push back, to _get them off me_ to let me have some space.

“Hey” I get out once they’ve let go.

“How’ve you been? Harry?” Hermione is the first to speak, tentative and cautionary, notes of fear dancing in the air.

“Yeah mate, we were worried” Ron chips in.

“I’m fine, I just needed a little space” I can’t meet their concerned gaze and feel the heat rising, colouring the back of my neck.

“sorry, but you can’t have needed almost _four months_ of space” Ron’s watching the top of my head as I watch the pavement “Mate.”

It’s a statement rather than a question and I know he doesn’t understand. He has Hermione. He had someone to worry about him and for him to worry about. I don’t know what to say. Hermione is hissing in his ear, no doubt scolding him for _being mean_.

“You’re right” It’s practically a whisper. “You’re right, I didn’t need four months.”

He nods, and I look him in the eye, assessing and thinking if we’ll ever get back to normal. The whistle of the train breaks us out of our stupor and we board, taking a compartment towards the back. I can tell Hermione is nervous by the way she keeps checking and re-checking minor details, chattering on and on about her latest campaign as if everything is ok. Ron in contrast just sits there and tries to start innocuous conversations. It’s so tense I could have shattered it with _reducto_. Eventually it comes, the onslaught of questions as to _why_?

“We sent you loads of owls, Harry. And you never replied. Not once.” Hermione is more sad than angry.

“We want answers Harry.” The steely note in Ron’s voice makes me flinch a little. I stay silent. I unbutton my coat.

“Well. After…everything, I sort of, I wasn’t…I couldn’t work out why I was alive.” I’m quiet and tentative and it feels like running uphill trying to explain this. “so, I didn’t want anyone to see me that way. I shut everyone out and I hadn’t spoken to anyone for months until Dra..Malfoy came to pick me up this morning.”

Ron stared, and Hermione gaped. I hadn’t been planning to tell them this, but it had come out as something to say. The silence becomes unbearable and I’m about to carry on..

“What the hell Harry?” He’s getting up now, bracing himself against the luggage rack above me. “Don’t you think we all felt like that a little? Don’t you? And we didn’t hide away in our fucking mansions? Did we huh? DID WE?” He’s right up close, and his breath is hot in my eyes. Hermione stands and grabs the back of his shirt pulling him down with a scared look but he’s not bloody finished.

“We don’t have the luxury to shut ourselves up if we feel like it, do we? I spent a year camping just for your shitty little mission. Some of us have family to support, to look after, because they…they lost a _SON_ because of you and your stupid, _stupid_ war” He turns away and takes deep breaths.

He leans in once more, “Fred is gone. George can’t stand himself and its all. Your. Fault.” He is choking the words out and his spittle lands on my cheek. And that’s it. That’s when I lost control.

“oh yeah because its been so hard for you hasn’t it? Oh yeah, that whole year you spent camping? A whole year? Really, Ron? Because I remember you going home for at least half of it because, as you said it’s a _shitty little mission_ and you couldn’t be bothered to stick it out with Hermione and me. You’d rather run back to Mummy because you don’t know what it’s like to lead your friends in to basically certain death on the orders of a man who manipulated you your _entire_ life.” He makes a move as if to explain himself but I’m on a roll.

“Neither of you have any idea what it’s like to be used _from birth_. I was sent to the Dursleys because I played a part in ‘the downfall of Voldemort’. I went to Hogwarts and every single year, ever since I was _eleven_ , I have fought _him_. I’m sorry, but when you were eleven Ron, you were most worried about what it was for dinner or your potions homework. It’s like I’ve had a tiny monster on my back, directing my life, not letting me choose how to end each year, how to end my life. I’ve never been allowed to be normal!” I sit back, breathless and I realise I’ve been shouting;

“Neither of you know what its like to have no purpose. The war ended, and I no longer had a use. I wasn’t _useful_. All I had to do was wake up, make coffee, have breakfast; and it was so tedious! Pretending that I was ok with all this. Like I wasn’t wondering what I could’ve done if I’d actually gotten my NEWTS? But again no, it was decided _that the time is now_? Not, that I got any choice in the matter. No qualifications for me. No! I couldn’t because yet again, Dumbledore didn’t mean for it to pan out like that. Neither of you get, that I had nothing worth living for. There was nothing, nobody to make me get up, so eventually? I stopped trying. I stopped getting up. I stopped cooking because I wasn’t going to eat it. I just shut down for a bit. It took me so long to get out of the door this morning. I wasn’t going to come, I asked for assistance to get to Hogwarts, did you know? I didn’t trust myself.

“neither of you know how limp I feel. Like a marionette with no puppeteer. Dumbledore left me with nothing after I’d fulfilled my role; all my life he’d trained me, _groomed_ me to fight Voldemort and once that was done, I meant _nothing_ to that man.”

I stop and look at them through gathering tears, “and you know the worst part? _I loved him like a father_.”

My voice breaks, and I find that I’m spent. I’m empty of words and all that’s left to do, is leave them to their own fucking revelations.


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't seem to find the end of the tunnel he's descended in to but theres a certain blond who thinks he has the answer. If given the chance he could bring light to the darkest time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys, gals and non-binary pals its #toodramatic but ah well :)  
> hope you enjoy  
> edit: sorry for the almighty gap between posting but 4 should be arriving soon :)

3.

I stumble down the corridor, my vision blurred, and search for an empty compartment. I’m not paying attention to where I’m going, so when I ran headfirst in to Draco, carrying a cup of coffee, we both went down, sprawling across the musty carpet of the train aisle. The burning coffee spills all down my front and the pain makes me yell out. I lifted myself up off the floor and offered Draco a hand up. He took it and we stood, facing each other searching for something to say.

“I know you’ve been crying Potter” He says.

“No, I haven’t!” I croak, sniffing and examining the damage done by the coffee. “I mean not that much.”

“hmm, sure” he looks at me appraisingly and grabs my wrist, pulling me in to the closest compartment. He sits me down and starts rummaging in his trunk for a tissue.

“It’s ok, you don’t need to, I can just get another shirt” He doesn’t turn around,

“No, you can’t _just_ , because that coffee burned you, I can tell by the way you shouted.” He’s cleverer than I thought. I’d gotten used to just dealing with stuff, you know with the Dursleys, so for him to actually notice is a new experience.

“You’ve fallen out with Ron and Hermione, haven’t you?” He asks quietly like he’s afraid to upset me again.

“No.”

He waits.

“Yes”

Again, there’s silence, but he carries on pulling bottles out of his trunk and moves to sit next to me.

“They just don’t really understand, you know? They don’t get that my whole life there’s been this duty I must do for humanity, and once I found out I would die at the end, I didn’t really think about what would go after? I just assumed I’d die, and I’d fulfil my use. So, when I didn’t have anything to do, I just didn’t see the point in living anymore you know?” It’s a clumsy explanation, filled with _“you know”_ s and I would be surprised if Draco understood anyway. But he’s nodding and avoiding my eye as he says;

“I get what you mean. I’ve been through shit like that as well and you know what kept me going? The thought of what would’ve happened if you hadn’t sacrificed yourself like that. I felt I owed it to you. To keep going.” I’m obviously looking at him like he’s gone mad, because he carries on with; “and trust me, I was the last person to do anything for you, of all people!”

He smiles, and I can’t help but smile back, because weirdly enough, Draco Malfoy cheered me up a bit.

“Now, take off your shirt.” He looks at me. I look at him.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because, asshole, I’d be shirtless!” He laughs and pokes me jokingly on the shoulder,

“There can’t be anything that bad underneath, Potter! Trust me, I’ve seen it all!”

I know he’s joking, but for some reason I really can’t lift my shirt up.

“They’re not even that bad, quit fussing” I bat his hands away, and smile weakly.

“Why can’t you just let me see Potter?” He’s confused and to be honest? So am I, I’ve never been this self-conscious before. I think wildly of an excuse, anything slightly plausible, but he’s turned away and is putting the bottles back in his trunk. _Jesus_ , I think with relief, _you’d think he fancied me!_ I stand up and begin to excuse myself, but before I can even say Thanks! he’s got his arms around me and is pulling my shirt up from the hem.

He’s surprisingly strong and overpowers my feeble attempt at resistance easily; he places both hands on my shoulders (cold!) and pushes me back down on to the bench.

“Stay”

“Jesus Malfoy, I’m not a dog!” I’m angry at him, he shouldn’t have done that.

I feel so uncomfortable. In the dark reflection of the window, I catch sight of myself. Prominent ribs and skinny stomach; nothing compared to the manicured strength of Draco. I watch his muscles move through his fitted t-shirt, sliding neatly as he works on reassembling the bottles on the bench.

“I asked you not to” I force it out.

“You did, but I hope you’ll accept that those burns are worse than they look, not that you would look!” the cold mask of the pureblood heir has slid back in to place and I’m reminded that this is a boy who has spent his entire life getting his own way. The hard look unnerves me, and I look away, accepting that, yes, it is _really_ _sore_ now.

“Fine. Sorry” I concede eventually.

“Thankyou!” He sighs dramatically, and I see that he’s reverted to the new version of Draco: charming and easy going?

He gets me to stand up and looks at the damage, before dabbing various ointments and potions on the harsh red marks. He works softly and gently, and I feel relaxed as he pulls out the heat and layers plasters over the worst of it.

“Potter” He asks tentatively as I pull my shirt over my head again.

“hmm?”

“When did you last eat a proper meal?” I feel his eyes on my shoulder blades as I pause, hand on the door.

“What?”

“When did you last eat properly” He’s not afraid to ask now, but I don’t want to answer that. He wouldn’t understand anyway.

“I told you, after the war ended I didn’t want to live” I begin, but he interrupts softly;

“I’m only asking because I want to help you.” A muscle jumps in his cheek as he tightens his jaw.

“Yeah well, its one way to die isn’t it?” I can’t look at his face. I can’t. It will be disappointed and pitying, just like the councillors at St. Mungo’s, just like Hermione’s; and I don’t want him to see me cry _again_. I don’t even know why I’m telling him this shit, he’s my bloody enemy. I’m about to leave when his voice breaks the silence,

“Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Bean?” I stop. He’s offering me sweets after I just told him I wanted to starve myself to death. I turn around.

“What?”

“Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Bean!” He smiles brightly, “when they say every flavour, they _mean_ every flavour!”

“ah, no thanks?” I make to leave again but once more,

“Pumpkin pasty? Liquorice wand?” He pulls more sweets out of his trunk and suddenly I’m back in first year, sat with Ron gorging on confectionary, my taste buds exploding as I had more sugar than in my whole life put together. I smile and remember how entranced I was with the Chocolate Frog cards, effectively my first encounter with Dumbledore.

“Got any chocolate frogs?” I ask, attempting nonchalance.

His face splits in to a beaming smile, and he nods vigorously, pulling several out of his trunk. I sit next to him this time and accept the offering of chocolate. He keeps watching me as if checking I’m eating. “Calm down, I’m eating!” I berate him, with a grin and he visibly relaxes, biting in to his own frog.

We sit like that for a while, nibbling our way through Every Favour beans and a couple more frogs. The whistle blows, signalling that we are near to Hogwarts, and neither of us have our robes on.

“Shoot, my stuff’s in the other compartment.” I hop up and pull the door open.

“If they’re still angry just come back here, yeah?” He tells me, nodding encouragingly.

“Thanks.” I can’t help but smile, because at last I haven’t spent the last half hour explaining myself or trying to justify myself.

He grins back, and I make my way back along the corridor, to Ron and Hermione. People stare and somehow, I don’t think it’s because I’m in muggle clothing. Coming to a stop I hear the messy noise of kissing and hesitate before knocking on the door.

“Knock knock?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the flustered complexion of the couple.

“Hey Harry!” Hermione answers cheerfully, Ron just nods in my direction.

“I just want to grab my stuff, and I’ll be out of your way” I hurry to the rack and grab my trunk, flipping open the lid and grabbing my robes.

“No, don’t worry, we were done anyway” Hermione says sheepishly.

I raise an eyebrow and colour rises to her cheeks in a wave. I’m in an inexplicably good mood, but Ron’s not having it.

“Where did you go?” He asks in a low voice.

“I ran in to Malfoy, with some coffee, er…and he mopped me up and gave me a couple plasters.” I wish I didn’t sound so awkward and false, “who knew coffee could give you third degree burns eh?”

I laugh nervously but Ron just snorts and stalks out of the compartment, robes swishing behind him.

“Sorry, Hermione but I don’t think its going to work this year.” I look at my feet.

“Don’t say that!” Her voice is choked by tears and she steps forward and collapses in to my hug. “He’s got so angry after the war, Harry. _So angry_. I know I can help him, I know I can!”

She pulls away and looks me in the eye, her face blotchy and tearstained.

“Give me time? I’m trying to help him, really I am” She sniffs and steps back, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“I know you are” I say, not brave enough to disagree, “of course you are.”

She nods and looks away, “I’ll go and find him ok? Make sure you’re changed by the time we arrive though!”

Her parting words reassure me, that even if the train got picked up by a giant dinosaur, Hermione would still remind everyone to be on time.


	4. Back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's chapter 4!!   
> Draco and Harry get roomed together, and although they're not too keen, maybe it'll work out fine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait amigos, but thanks for all the support! <3<3

4.

We can all see the thestrals now. Everyone. Even the tiny first years, coming back to re-do first year, because the Carrows’ made life a living _hell_. The thestrals seem delighted at their new-found fame, snickering and lipping the various treats out of various hands, but all I can think about is the fact that, when I could see them? I was one of few. I relied on Luna to let me know that _no, you’re not going mad._

The journey up to the castle passes in a tense, awkward silence. Ron glowers at me from time to time, and straight up ignores me at others. I feel bad for Hermione, though; because if there’s anyone who deserves to have a peaceful eighth year, it’s her.

Her awkward attempts at conversation all fizzle out, and we pass the journey listening to the soft murmurs of Neville and Luna, and the rattle of the harnesses. My mind turns to the question of rooming for our eighth year. They aren’t enough of us returning to warrant four different houses, but what other alternative is there?

“do you think, Harry, er that we’ll keep our room?” Ron asks tentatively.

“well, ah,” I start “I dunno” I’m not really sure where this sudden willingness to talk came from, but Hermione is giving us hopeful looks as we tiptoe around each other.

A short walk later, and we’re stood at the base of the steps, the doors open, and we flood in to the entrance hall, grateful to be out of the cold.

“Eighth years, stay where you are!” The strong, Scottish voice of Minerva McGonagall carries across the entrance hall, as the line of students dribbles in to the newly repaired hall. The professors of Hogwarts past and present had done a magnificent job of retuning the castle back to its former glory, and I feel a spark of love as I look up, to the turrets and battlements that have become home.

“Right, you lot.” Professor McGonagall looks down from on high as she addresses the motley crew of eighth year returnees. “As you may well have noticed, there are so few of you this year, that I have taken the decision to merge the houses for your final year. This means you will be placed in to rooms of two this year.” Her last few words are swallowed by the sudden outbreak of muttering.

“Do we get to choose Professor?” called Seamus, glancing at Dean.

“No Mr. Finnegan, not on this occasion.” Her voice is sharp, and I can tell she expected a little _resistance_ to the idea. “You will now follow me in to the great Hall”

We follow, feet shuffling, in a close huddle. I’d been hoping to get in without the stares and whispers, but I guess that’s out the window. We troop in to the Great Hall as the last first year is called to be sorted, our footsteps echoing as everyone whips round to watch us come in. As one unit we sit at the back and I find myself opposite Draco again. He glances at me and I can feel Ron watching my back intently, probably feeling _betrayed and he’s a deatheater Harry_! But guess what, I believe that people can change you know? You grow and I’m sorry, but Malfoy didn’t seem eager exactly. _Eager_ to hide and wait for it all to blow over, yes; eager to kill Dumbledore? No. Ron doesn’t know _shit_.

I’m lost in thought when Hermione pokes me in the ribs, pointing to the laden tables and grinning. I smile weakly and look away before my face betrays my feelings. I’ve no appetite, and to be honest, too much food at once would probably make me sick.

“We’ll see you in a bit yeah?” Ron puts his hand on my back like an uninterested acquaintance, as he follows Hermione to sit next to Dean and Seamus.

Ah. No longer welcome until I _sort myself out._ Nice. Cool.

“lord Draco you’ve been working out?” A sharp, upper class accent cuts in to my trance as Pansy Parkinson settles down next to Draco, and Blaise Zabini sits next to me, acknowledging me with the tiniest nod.

“hmm” Says Draco making wry eye contact with me over his goblet.

“Merlin’s beard Pansy, give it a rest?” Blaise scoffs and helps himself to pie from the suddenly full plates. “anyway, you know he’s gay.”

 

I start and glance at Blaise. Draco, gay? _No, surely he was engaged to some other ex-deatheater pureblood?_

“Don’t let my mother hear you say that” he’s saying, grinning. “I think she’d have a heart attack”

“Well I think its jolly unfair of you to cut yourself off from the _legions_ of women who pine for you.” Pansy smirks and looks at me, albeit with mild confusion.

“Yeah, Draco, you’re going down the wrong route entirely, why have one type when you can have them all?” Blaise spreads his hands and laughs, before turning to me. “Potter, pleased to meet you. Blaise Zabini, pansexual.” He grasps my hand and shakes it vigorously.

“Thanks? Uh, Potter, straight?” I smile and look down as Draco raises an eyebrow. “for now, at least”

Blaise and Pansy laugh, but Draco just watches the table.

“Chicken, Potter?”

“Thanks”

Most of the meal passes in relative peace, Zabini and Parkinson sniping at each other occasionally, discussing which pairings McGonagall thought suitable. Its almost time to go when Pansy turns to me abruptly.

“So, who’d have thought it, our lord and saviour, hanging with the snakes.” Pansy leers and looks at Zabini and Draco, who don’t return her grin. “Oh, come on, now he’s here can’t we have a laugh at him?”

“He’s been to hell and back Pans,” Zabini casts a sideways look at me, “give him a break”

“It’s fine, I understand don’t worry about it!” I say brightly, “I’m used to it”

“Well, you shouldn’t be” Draco mutters darkly, pushing away from the table and striding out of the hall. I watch him go as Zabini follows, shaking his head at Parkinson who just rolls her eyes. And just like that, I’m alone again.

I look around and see Ron help Hermione up from the beach, smarmy git. As if Hermione needs help. _Jeez_.

I get up and march to the front of the hall, aiming to find McGonagall and get to my room fast as possible. It seems that won’t happen, because it feels like I’ve emerged in to a vacuum as soon as I step out of the great hall. People are stood on all the stairways and in the classrooms, watching the waiting 8th years as we stand, apprehensively.

“What is this?” The spell is broken by Professor McGonagall sweeping in to the entrance, causing the killing student body to scatter in seconds. “You will all come forward and collect a password when I call your name.” She surveys us with a wary eye as we shuffle our feet and avoid eye contact.

“Lavender Brown and Parvati Patel” Air punches and a rush of feet accompany the first pairing, closely followed by an outburst of chattering as hopes soar.

“Hannah Abbott and Padma Patel” not quite as enthusiastic, but maybe a newly cautious friendship is good?

I’ve zoned out until I hear, “Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson” accompanied by a shriek of rage and strong muttering as Hermione and Parkinson made their way up to the front.

The girls now all done, Professor begins on the boys, with “Zacharias Smith and Neville Longbottom.” Neville’s brave attempt at a handshake falls flat, and I can’t help but worry for him. _How awkward can one boy be?_

Ron and Zabini are next to be paired and the I’m feeling increasingly panicky, looking at the remaining boys as Seamus and Dean get paired together, which by the way is extremely unfair?? Finally, I’m left stood like a _fricking noodle_ across the hall from Draco.

“Right then Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, you’re together!” She rolls up her parchment and gives us each an over-enthusiastic smile before marching away, up the stairs. I run after her, knowing that there’s no way a mistake was made, but going all the same.

“Professor!” I call at McGonagall’s rapidly retreating back “Professor wait, please!”

“What is it Potter” She’s trying to look stern but the creases in her forehead betray her concern.

“I don’t really think that Draco Malfoy is the best roommate for me?” I venture, not quite meeting her eye.

“Oh really?” eyebrows raised.

“yup”

“Well I’m sorry Potter, there’s nothing I can do, the Sorting Hat was consulted, and he seemed to think it best!” She turns on her heel and its more than I can do to not shout after her that I'd _really love_ a single room! When I get back to the entrance hall, Draco is still there, sitting on the stairs clutching two keys.

“Here”

“Thanks.” Silently we make our way up to the rooms.

“Sorry you didn’t want to room with me.” Draco says, quietly.

“oh, I didn’t realise….” I trail off feeling ashamed.

“That I could hear? You only went ten paces Potter” He’s looking at his feet and I feel a pang of pity.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that this would be your ideal situation either? You know?” I state, reasoning that I probably wasn’t high on his bff list.

“How could you think that? Of course…” He’s the one to trail off this time, stopping himself as though he was about to reveal something deep and well hidden. “Anyway, I daresay we’ll…we’ll rub along.”

I glance at him and see that once more; the normally ice-cold Malfoy is blushing red and avoiding my eye.

“I know you love me really” I smirk and go to unlock the door as Draco splutters and protests behind me.

“Me? No, why would you…no…I’m not eve…no….stupid Potter” He tails off and I can practically hear the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Our room is in the top of what used to be the astronomy tower, so we have the best view of the night sky. Draco and I stand in the middle of the room, uncertain of what to do.

“Um, so which bed do you want?”

“what?”

“Which bed?” I repeat.

“Oh, well, er I mean, you seem to have the one alongside the window?”

“oh, yeah true!” In my eagerness to start a conversation made me miss our trunks and uniform laid out next to the beds already. The fake cheerfulness in my voice makes me cringe.Draco flops down face first on to his bed, eyes shut.

“I’m just gonna take a shower, Malfoy” I offer to the prone form of Draco on his bed. No audible response but a thumbs up is all I need.


End file.
